This snippet comes from a much longer story called "Truth and Consequences," which is currently under consideration for publication (wish me luck!). It's told in first person by a human named Darius who, on a driving trip west, has picked up a young arctic fox hitchhiker named Angelo. They've stopped for the night at a motel (nothing has happened... yet), and Darius leaves Angelo in the room to go to a nearby convenience store to get a couple of pints of chocolate milk to enjoy before sleep. While in the convenience store, Darius helps a young husky through a bad situation with some bad humans...

EDIT, April 28, 2012: The complete story (of which this is a part) has been accepted for publication by Pink Fox Publications for their second Allasso collection, to be released in May. Renamed "No More Monday Memos," the story won the Editor's Choice Award for Best Use of Anthropomorphism. Please visit http://pinkfoxpublications.net/allasso/ for ordering information. Thanks for reading!

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Convenience

The store may once have been part of a chain, but its look was more independent now, by which I mean that it was more seedy than was strictly necessary. I figured that the milk would be sealed, and probably safe unless it wasn't chilled properly. On that score, I lucked out: There looked to be a few ice crystals at the top of each of the pint bottles that I pulled out of the ice chests. I set about looking for other items, in case something attracted my attention, when I heard the door open again. A young husky walked in, cleanly dressed, shoulders very slightly hunched as if not wanting to attract too much attention to himself. I saw the two human guys behind the counter nudge one another after the pup went past them. I lingered just long enough to be a few seconds behind the husky when he returned to the counter. "Just this, please," said the therianthrope politely, setting a single bottle of beer on the counter. "You got any ID?" said the gruff, grizzled man behind the counter. The husky withdrew a state-issued drivers license from his windbreaker pocket and handed it to the man, who looked it over with some suspicion. "Yer how old?" "I turned 22 a few months ago." "That a fact." The man looked up with a nasty grin. "In dog years, you're only three years old." This got a guffaw from the cashier's equally grizzled friend, who squatted on a stool behind the counter as if he were somehow important to the running of the place. The husky didn't move; I had the sense of a blush deep beneath the fur on his muzzle, although that may have been communicated by some other body language that I wasn't conscious of. He tried to smile and didn't quite make it. "I hadn't thought of it that way," he said. "I'll have to tell my mom that." "Yeah, I guess an old bitch would like to hear something like that." The proprietor smirked as the husky clearly fought to keep some dignity. "Well, that's the right word for a female dog, ain't it? Bitch? Just bein' politicky kee-rect." That was enough for the silent sidekick to start holding his sides, braying like... well, I can't say that without insulting a donkey somewhere. I could see the husky's fur starting to rise, an instinctive reaction that humans also can do, just without anything like the impressive display that the pup could provide if pressed much further. I stepped up to one side, slowly, placing the two pints of milk on the counter. As I hoped, the cashier tossed the license at the husky as if dismissing him. The card fell on the counter, and I took a big chance picking it up and looking at it. "Hey," I said as disarmingly as I could. "You take a good picture. My picture stinks, wanna see?" I handed the license back to the pup, who looked at me strangely. I dug out my wallet and held out my license to him. "I look like I should be pinned up on the post office wall, don't I?" I'd grabbed the action away from both sides of the counter; now I had to keep it going. The husky still wasn't sure what was going on. "Here," I said, "let me show these guys; man, I look like crap." I took the license gently from him and handed it to the cashier. "Well, that's what I get for creeping up on 50, isn't it? I'm just gettin' too damned old to look good for a photo. Hey, fellah, if you don't want that beer, I'll take it. I'm gonna need somethin' to help me get some sleep if my boys don't calm down. Driving always gets 'em in an uproar, tough being on the road." I slid the beer bottle next to my two bottles of milk. "How much is that altogether?" The cashier had glanced at my license, handed it back to me and rang up the purchase. I passed over a fiver, got a little change back, took up my purchases. I was just about to leave, when I looked at the beer again and frowned. "Aw hell, I really ought to quit with this stuff. Ain't good to drink before another long day of driving, is it?" I looked at the husky. "Would you like to have this?" The lad looked at me in complete disbelief. The cashier said, "Mister, we don't have to serve their kind at this place! We don't want 'em here." "But you sold it to me. And I don't want it, so I'm giving it to him." "You can't...!" "I saw his license. He's of age. I can give him a beer if he wants one." I gave the husky the bottle and put an arm around him to guide him out the door. "By the way, you just rang up a sale to a homo. I hope that's not against the rules." The cashier sputtered, "You said you had boys with you!" "What else would a homo have with him? G'night, y'all!" I got the husky out the door and quickly down to the end of the parking lot. With one hand on his shoulder, I looked at him and said, "I only hope to God you're passing through this town, because I just screwed both of our chances of buying anything from those people ever again!" The husky laughed and said, "Mister, I'm gonna have to tell this story to my grandpups... if I ever have any." "Got a girlfriend?" I asked. "Yes, sir." "You've got a head start." I grinned at him. "Get home safely, okay?" "Hey, wait." He hesitated. "Can I ask...?" "Because I can't help being born human, but I can damn well give it the lie. We're not all like that." "I know," he said softly, and smiled. "I don't come up against people like that very often. I would have just left." "Now, you've left with your beer. And that's better than leaving with so much angry redneck crap rubbing up your fur the wrong way." "Can I pay you...?" "Pay it forward. You know how." He extended a forepaw to me. "Rollie." I shook his paw warmly. "Mud." And we both laughed, heading in our separate directions.